Fight or Flight
by x.Vivace
Summary: This is the story of a boy and a girl, and their fated meeting. Set in Tol Barad, during Cataclysm.


**A/N: For Ryan. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own WoW.**

**..**

The air was thick with fog—a deep humidity that made my fire magic hiss with displeasure.

Thank god, no enemies were in sight. Nor had they been all night. It was curious, but I was more grateful than anything, especially since I was little more than a novice mage.

My eyes had a bit of difficulty adjusting to the swamp lighting. It was a dull, dark late night sky, blacker than the soul of Deathwing himself. The trees drooped low, crying tears of dew on the well-worn battlegrounds. My boots had long been soaked through, the protection of leather and magic only lasting so long in war.

I decided to move locations to a more active area, so I called upon my skeletal horse (I fancied myself a bit of a mount connoisseur, and I spent much of my spare time and money on my collection) even though many would turn their noses at a noble blood elf as myself becoming acquainted with the likes of The Undercity. The idle thought drifted away quickly as I dug my heels into the glowing, mystical ribcage of my beast. Hearing the strong neigh made my heart swell with pride.

The pride stuck with me even as the bumpy ride across the swamplands shook my ginger bun loose. I couldn't do magic very well with fiery hair in my face, so I tugged the reigns and my faithful horse complied very swiftly, grateful for the rest. The heat was killer, even to the undead.

I quickly glanced around just to make sure I wasn't being followed—I was in war, of course—and the constant lack of Alliance made a suspicious feeling run cold through my blood. I let it go for a moment and tossed my hair quickly into a tightened bun. I held out my hand and condensed some humidity into a circular piece of ice and the blue and white flash turned into a makeshift mirror. My makeup was creased and my hair still looked mussed, but any man in his right mind could see the pure high elf blood that made up my delicately athletic frame.

I gave myself a smile, but dropped the frozen crystal immediately when my horse reared on its hind legs with a high-pitched whiney. I heard the ice shatter as I wrapped my arms around his neck to avoid being thrown to the ground, and as soon as he landed on all fours and dashed into the woods, I glanced over my thin shoulder and saw a tiny gnome rogue running at us at an ungodly speed. I felt my mouth produce a Thalassian curse and urged my horse to move on.

Call me a coward, but my novice skills weren't fit entirely to take on a fully-armored rogue. Even if he did happen to be three feet tall with ridiculous green hair.

I let my horse scamper on, dodging trees and I did eventually lose sight of the rogue behind me. There was no way he could have kept up in his stealthed form, that I knew.

A cocky smirk sat on my lips as my horse galloped out of the treeline—and right into a group of enemies. My skeletal treasure reared back and this time I could not catch a grip. I landed right on my slender bum behind a group of five or so Alliance. Worst of all, a very handsome-looking blood elf was in the middle of fighting them. None of the six of them had noticed me in the heat of the battle, so I knew I could easily stand up, cast mirror image and make a run for it with my doubles as my cover. However, an impulsive, stupid need to help this man made my stomach knot up.

I let my heart cast a quick frost spell, freezing a few of the alliance to the ground. I met eyes with the blood elf and my heart stopped. He was gorgeous. I gave a weird smile that even I knew was inappropriate, and a tall night elf who had not been frozen down shot an arrow that ripped through my boot and landed in the ground.

I looked at it, cringing at the green vapor that rose from it telling me that shot would have made me violently ill had it hit me, and then I met eyes with the handsome elf once more. He was a paladin and I could tell because he cast a healing spell on himself while he had the chance, showering a rain of sunshine over his own head.

The glow made him look godly, and it was all I could go not to get hit by the next arrow that was shot at me. I dodged it, then ran towards the paladin. The look in his eyes was surprised, as he cast a spell and raised his sword and shield.

I stood behind him, as a spell caster was expected, and called for my doubles. The four of us shot at whatever we could, attempting to keep the battle somewhat mutual.

I watched the paladin fight from behind and, slowly, he was being pushed back toward me and against a vine-smothered wall. We were being overcome by the Alliance, by sheer number. Plus, I knew it was hard on the man before me to heal us both as well as fight on the front lines. My last thought before a poisoned arrow tore through my chest and thrown knife cut through my thigh was that at least the guy wouldn't have to die alone.

.

My first breath was filled with humidity and the scent of sweat and blood.

I coughed, a bit of blood staining the sleeve of my robe. And I had just had it tailored.

I sat up weakly, feeling a distinct pain in my chest. I put a hand to where the arrow had ripped a hole through my robe—right above my left breast—and I knew it was going to leave a scar. Nevertheless, I have a tiny smile to the healer who had revived me, though silently I wondered if he could have done a more seamless job in terms of healing me more afterwards. A glance around the camp told me he hadn't the time, because it was pretty obvious we were in a losing battle.

I climbed to my feet as best as I could, and met eyes with the paladin who I had fought beside. He looked well past healed, almost like he'd waited for me to wake up to speak with me. A flattered blush heated my visage.

"Madam?" His voice was deeper than I imagined, and it sent nerves through my stomach.

We were outside, on a ledge in a makeshift infirmary consisting of many healers, many more patients, and a small tent. It was hot and I knew I looked disgusting from just being awoken from the dead. However, I smiled dashingly and said, "Why hello."

"Thank you," he said simply. His glowing green eyes were stamped with bewilderment. As if he wasn't used to having someone by his side, even in battle.

I stood up and brushed off the lengths of my robe. "Why are you thanking me? Last I checked, we're on the same side of this war."

He smiled and nodded once, decisively. His air was that of a gentleman. His lips were delightful, and the curl of his eyelashes made my stomach jump. There was certainly no need to thank me. I would have jumped off a cliff without the aid of magic for a specimen so fine.

"That we are," he said. "Why don't we try to find some trouble together again. Maybe this time we'll have more luck."

I nodded, unsure why a man so skilled in his own class would want to associate with a novice like me—but I saw no reason to complain. "Are you sure?"

He snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Come on."

Next thing I knew, we were on his steed and racing through the battlegrounds to find someone to fight.

.

By the time the sun had come up, we'd found ourselves still together.

He'd brought me to a small island off the coast of Ratchet, where during the day fishermen would come and reap the golden ocean, but at night it was calmer than a sleeping ghost wolf. We had already been talking for hours, just sitting in the sand with our toes submerged, worn boots forgotten behind us.

"You know," he said after a short silence, with the waves grabbing at my tired mind. "I would have gotten away from those Alliance had you not cut in—earlier at Tol Barad."

I raised my eyebrows and let my mouth fall into a shocked, open-mouthed smile. "Do you think?" I asked, humored. There were five of them and one of him. Part of me doubted he would have been able to beat them, but the other half of me knew for a fact he was strong enough.

"Yes. I would have used my divine shield and I could have gotten away."

I laughed aloud. Maybe he wasn't _strong_ enough—no one was—but instead _smart_ enough to have won that battle. Certainly smarter than me, because I hadn't given that option a single thought. I gave him a small tap on the shoulder with my fist. "That would have been cowardly. At least we went down with a fight."

"Perhaps," he replied, "And I have to admit I would have suffered that humiliating defeat any day for a chance to speak to a girl like you."

I blushed and looked at our toes, wavy and manipulated by the shoreline. I felt his hand slide through the sand and brush against my own. Somehow I knew it was on purpose.

And even when the conversation went quiet and there wasn't much else to say, our eyes met and I knew that intervening in that battle was the best decision of my life.

**..**

**A/N: This is so part-due. This is pretty much the story of how I met my boyfriend over WoW, from the point of view of our characters. We've now been dating for a little over a year and a half, a year and two months of which has been in person. I love him to death and I wanted to give him a present because he's had an awful day. I hope you enjoyed this story and please leave a comment. :)**


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